Under The Masks
by Twinkie216
Summary: A/U Irene Dreiberg was Dan's little sister. She's a touchy subject due to their parents and their background. But when Irene is wanted, dead or alive, by a new big time drug dealer will the Watchmen save the day, or will Irene be on her own? Rated M for: Violence & Language & Descriptions.
1. Chapter 1

**January 12, 1967 - New York - Leaving Donna's House**

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Donna asked. She leaned her body up against the door frame. The stirring breeze from the semi busy street behind us blew her brown hair in every which direction, making her look ten times more beautiful. She was already gorgeous, even with her assumed average looks. But, I knew better. Just looking at her now, the brightness in her eyes, and the gorgeous small smile that stretched on her face, I knew she was going to grow into a remarkably beautiful woman.

I smiled at my friend. "It's not that far, Donna."

"True," she said, "but I don't want you to..." she trailed off looking over my head at the busy street behind me.

I waved her off. "I can get home just fine on my own."

Donna shifted on her heels, and rested her head on the door frame. The smile left her face. "The streets are just so dangerous at night with those guys in capes running around-"

"Those 'guys in capes' are the good guys," I interrupted, shooting her a dirty look. "You can blame them for whatever you want, Donna, but their status won't change."

"They're lunatics doing the police's job, Irene!" Donna spat. "They aren't doing justice. _Justice_ is the _law_."

I held my tongue, and didn't say anything. Donna's father was a cop, therefore, she knew much more about laws than I did. She wanted to become someone of the law, just like him, and make his eyes light up with pride. Of course she was too blind to see that she could be nothing more than a housewife and her father would be proud of her.

That's what I liked most about Donna. She always shot for the stars to make the people around her happy. She was selfless, and kind, and she always brought me up. Well, unless it came to the vigilantes, she seemed to hate them with a burning passion. It was weird to see how much she seemed to despise the group of wannabe-heroes due to how kind to everyone she always was.

Donna's eyes caught mine. "Are you sure you don't want my father to drive you home?" She tilted forward, as if leaning forward would change my decision.

I nodded. "Yes, Donnacakes. I don't want your father to work more than he has to." Donna gave me a small, reluctant smile.

She sighed. "Well, if you insist on going home alone..." she trailed off, and bit her lip.

"Of course I insist," I said. I stuck my tongue out at her. "Don't think I can handle myself, Donnacakes?" I teased.

"Oh gosh," she said with an eye roll. "Stop calling me that!" She gave me a playful shove.

"Donnacakes, Donnacakes, Donnacakes," I chanted childishly, putting my hands on my hips. Her face flushed, and she balled her fists up.

"Knock it off or I'll sock ya in the face!" Donna tried to screw up her face to look angry, but the look in her eyes gave her away and she couldn't seem to make her grin turn into a frown. I gave a hearty laugh, not at all intimidated by her.

"Who's messing with my daughter?" her father demanded, popping up behind her. Unlike Donna, he had black hair, not brown, and was far from childish. His voice was deep, and his eyes held a certain old wisdom that a child could never possess. He saw me and his eyes lit up in surprise. "Irene? I thought you left already. My, it's already nine-thirty. Should I call your parents?" He paused, shifting on his heels. "Better yet, do you need a ride home?" His head tilted to the side, looking at me hopefully.

I felt the color drain from my face as I shook my head. I didn't hear anything he had said after he told me the time.

I was dead.

I glanced down at Donna to see she, too, was pale. She gulped, her mouth presed into a line and I looked at her with desperate eyes. Don't tell him anything. She had wanted to tell her father as soon as I'd confided in her all those years ago about what life was like at home, but I hadn't let her. Her father narrowed his eyes at my reaction, but dismissed it with raise of the eyebrow. I noticed that ever since then, though, her father watched me more closely every time he spoke of my home. I never told him anything about my house or my parents, but I told Donna everything. A part of me briefly wondered if she'd ever told him about my life at home, but another, the more rational part of me, knew that Donna would never go against her word or betray my trust.

"Well, then you best be getting home to your parents then," her father said. He flashed me a warm smile and then put his hand on Donna's shoulder. "I'll see ya around, Irene." With that, he pulled Donna inside, and closed the front door.

I stayed there for a fleeting moment, staring at the step Donna had just been, before turning on my heel and bolting into the street. "I'm dead."


	2. Chapter 2

**January 12, 1967 - New York - Going To Janet's**

I stayed there for a fleeting moment, staring at the step Donna had just been, before turning on my heel and bolting into the street. "I'm dead," I whispered. "Absolutely dead. Oh God, Irene. Think!"

I walked down the crowded sidewalk. People slid by me like water, and the cars that zoomed in the street puffed exhaust that hung in the air. With a sigh, I picked up my pace and jogged to the end of the block where I stopped and scoped the area.

"Even if I do go home, I'll be in a ton of trouble." I frowned at the thought of the trouble and then shook my head to clear the thoughts away. "Janet lives only a few blocks away, I could call my mother there, tell her I'm spending the night. She can't say no to that, even if it's a school night," I thought aloud, already making my way to my friend's house. "Janet won't even mind me coming over, her mother loves me...Yes, that's the perfect choice." I sighed making my way across the busy street. I walked halfway down the block and then stopped in front of an alley way. "Question is," I whispered to myself, looking at the dark alley, "do I take a short cut through here, or walk around?" I snickered at the fact I even considered it, and made my way through the alley. "Nothing bad's going to happen to me. I'm just a random kid walking through a dark alley way. I'm not valuable. No one's going to mess with me," I muttered, reassuring myself and resisting the urge to move my eyes from any place but in front of me.

Unsurprisingly, the temperature seemed to drop in the alley way, and a stale, prominent smell of garbage and waste lingered in the air, burning my nostrils. It was dark, even though bright lights shined in on both sides. It was a typical, creepy alley. The alley was big enough that I could extend both of my arms and not hit the nasty walls. I walked back into the light of the street, and was a few feet from stepping out of the alley when a voice startled me. "You," it snarled.

"Darn it," I mumbled. I glanced back before I turned around. I thought about just walking away, but the sight of a man made me stay. He was short and blonde. He had dirty, pale skin that was wrinkled with stress and scars and wore thin cloth clothing. He must have been freezing. "I'm so sorry, sir," I said, my voice soft, "but I'm kind of in a hurry here..." I was about to offer him my jacket, but he moved faster than I though possible and grabbed my arm. I snapped my mouth shut, and winced at his tight hold. His grip was surprisingly strong even though the man looked weak.

"This is _my_ alley way," he said. His voice resembled one of a madman. The man's dark eyes looked back and fourth between me and the well lit street. "What are you doing walking in it at this time of night?" I didn't answer. He shook me and gritted his teeth. "Why's a _child_ walkin 'round in my alley?"

I looked at the man, trying to figure him out. Was he on drugs?

"I was just trying to get home, sir," I whispered, afraid that if I raised my voice the man might do something regrettable.

"Home? Where have you been all day, kid?" I flinched at this words, and my nose wrinkled at the smell of his horrid breath when he leaned closer to my face. His voice got louder. "Do you know what I have to do with you now?!" He gave me a dark look and his eyes narrowed in on me.

I gulped, finding that I couldn't seem to look away from his eyes. His mad, dark eyes.

"It's your fault I have to kill you."

I felt my mouth drop open, and I sputtered to say something. "_Kill_ me?" I exclaimed. I felt my eyes crinkle with panic and my breathing picked up. _What the hell?!_ "What the hell is wrong with you?" I grabbed my arm and tried to pull it from his grasp, but he was stronger than he looked. I let out a pained gasp when he tightened his grip on my arm. "Let me go!" I hissed. I glared at him, but I was more panicked than angry, so I made more of a pained face.

"I can't," he whispered, more to himself than me. He didn't even acknowledge my attempts at escaping and instead, looked around the dark alley; it was as if he was looking for something. His face slid into one of confusion as he continued to look around, dragging me away from the street and deeper into the alley. I struggled, but my efforts where in vain. "I can't let you go, kid. I'm sorry..."

"Help!" I screamed, looking at the people who passed by. They all seemed so wrapped up in their own lives that they didn't notice me or my screaming. "Help! Please! Someone!"

"They can't see you," the man said. "Not now that I've got a hold of you."

My face scrunched up into something ugly. "What are you, some sort of magical ghost?" I spat, mocking him. I looked over at the people in the street and, again, yelled for help.

"No." The man laughed. It was a sickening sound. "Ghosts aren't real, and I'm very real. Only problem is that people don't care 'bout you. Not that I've got you, you're gone." The man smiled proudly showing off his brown teeth. I cringed. "I just need my...fix, and the boss only pays in blood." He looked around again, his eyes brows scrunching up.

I turned to look at the man, and then shook my head. "You're crazy." I shin kicked the man, and let out a disbelieving laugh as he let go of my arm like it burned him. His mouth opened in a shout, but, without another thought, I threw my hand out and punched the man straight in the jaw. Fearing the worst, I turned and ran out of the alley into the crowd of people.

And I, being the idiot I am, bolted through traffic and to the other side of the street, not caring about all of the horns honking at me and the insults. My breathes were coming out as pants even though I hadn't run far, and I turned around to see if the man had followed me, but there was no sign of him.

It was like he vanished.

Against my better judgement, I let out a laugh. He was gone. I was safe.

With a deep breath, I turned around, ready to hustle it to Janet's, but as soon as I did, I ran full force into someone. I let out a yelp as I flew back, and a waterfall of papers came raining down on me. I let out a worried groan as my hands instantly started picking up papers. "Are you alright?" I asked the man sitting across from me.

He was short, I noticed. He was also covered in clothes that looked too thin to provide any warmth, and messy red hair that stood up on his head in every which had blue eyes that were narrowed into slits as he glared at me. Even if he was small, he wasn't scrawny like the man in the alley. I could tell there was muscle under his shirt. He had a shadow of facial hair on the lower half of his face. I flinched away from his menacing look, but continued to pick up papers. His blue eyes were bright with annoyance.

_Don't offer him your jacket._ "Sir?" The man was on his knees now, and he snatched the papers away from me.

"Don't need help," he growled. He picked the rest of the papers up with shaking hands and I stood up, offering him my hand.

"I'm so sorry," I said. He glared at my hand as if he were insulted and stood up on his own. "I should have been looking where I was going..." I trailed off as the man walked by me, only grunting in response. At his lack of manners, the regret in my stomach turned into anger. "Well screw you, too! Least you could do is say something!" I was going to flick him off, but I decided not to give this prick another moment of my precious life. I whirled around and stomped off in the direction of Janet's house.

Little did I know that as I fumed away like a child, the man had leaned down to pick up a brown, worn wallet. My wallet. The man sighed, annoyed, and turned around to find me gone. He frowned, and for a moment wondered if he should just take it, but decided against it. He let out another huff of annoyance, but then looked away from my wallet to see me stomping away a little ways ahead of him. Seeing me, he began to follow.


	3. Chapter 3

**January 12, 1967 - New York - Outside Of Janet's**

It was a only a small walk from Donna's to Janet's, but I was taking my time. I knew I didn't want to show up too late, but I didn't want to rush to her house, begging for them to let me stay. Heck, if I did that, they'd think something was wrong. I turned a corner, and smiled as I saw Janet's house in the distance. So close.

As I marched up Janet's street I stopped abruptly and let out a sudden stream of curses. "_No!_" I stomped my foot down on sidewalk so hard my foot ached. "Janet's not even home-she left for France this afternoon! God, how could I have forgotten?" I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk with the dim streetlights not providing much light. I let out a sound that was between a growl and sigh and stomped my foot again. "I'm dead! Just dead!" I looked at the watch on my wrist and cringed at the time.

10:05.

"You got that right." I gasped at the unexpected voice, and turned around just as hand shot out and latched onto the colar of my jacket. A huge man stepped into the dim light and he shoved me against the brick building I had been standing next to. I couldn't help it, I screamed. "Shut the fuck up." The man's hand slapped over my mouth, muffling my sounds. "Walk," he hissed. He took his hand off my mouth to drag his coat open slightly so I could get a good look at the handgun he had tucked in his belt.

My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head. I shook my head. "I-I-I've got money, I-I'll pay you off. Money's only a-an obj-ect," I sputtered, my hand reaching for my wallet. My eyes widened futher as I stuffed my hand in my pocket and pulled out nothing. I tried my other pocket and shook my head again. _No, this can't be happening!_

The man smiled, as if amused by my rection. "The boss only pays in blood, girl." He chuckled, and for the second time tonight, I was disgusted by a laugh. "Now walk," the man repeated.

I gulped, and nodded. I was too stunned to speak. _This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening._ I complied as he threw me from the wall and pushed me forward, my legs working as best as they could even though they shook like leaves in a tornado, and my body reacted to what he told me to do.

We quickly turned into an alleyway and he started down toward the slum part of town. My eyes were watering, but both my mind and body were numb as hundreds of different - horrible- thoughts flooded in my mind. We kept walking, taking the dark alleyways and the occasional street, but the streets were different than from the area I lived. Needless to say, this had to be the worst day of my life.

The streets were completely empty, with no cars and the only other people out this late were those crowded around fires in metal barrels that had the toxic waste symbols faded on them. He led me into a ratty and abandoned apartment building that was obviously anything but stable, half of it being a victim of major fire damage. He forced me into the building and up a very wobbly set of stairs and into another dark hallway where he kicked down one of doors and pushed me inside.

My lips trembled and the tears that had stung in my eyes since he showed me the gun fell down my cheeks as I began to connect the dots. _This can't be happening. _I frowned, a heavy weight pressing on my heart._ He's not just going to murder me in cold blood. He'll do something first... I'll die like Alice,_ I thought.

I felt my heart rate spike as my breathing became difficult and before I knew it, I was hyperventilating. _I can't die now! I have school tomorrow! I have to see Donna again! I have to, I promised, didn't I? I always keep my promises._ I didn't even process that my captor had moved in front of me until the handgun was inches from my face. I choked on a breath, and inhaled the bitter scent of cold metal. _Oh, I'm going to vomit._

And that's what I did.

I choked on another breath and then turned just as the contents of my stomach spilled from my mouth and onto the floor. The mess I made was small, the equivalent to how much I had eaten today. The bitter taste in my mouth and the stinging in my nose made my tears fall faster. I was already sick, and he hadn't even done anything yet. My heart clenched painfully in uncertainty.

The man made a sound of disgust and snapped, "What kind of pathetic bitch are you? You're sick and we haven't even started." The man's hard voice made my stomach twist and squeeze. I gagged, but nothing came up.

I should have protested as he shook the gun in my face, and demanded I take my clothes off. I shouldn't have done what the man said. I should have stood my ground, but the gun in his hand took away all sense of fighting back. From what skin was exposed, I could tell he was white, with a masculine square jaw, and quite scrawny, even with his broad shoulders and tremendous height. He was easily 6 feet tall, and had shaggy gold hair that was sprinkled with dirt and smeared with oil. The room was too dark to come up with an eye color. His clammy hands grabbed my bare shoulders and spun me around. Then he held the tip of the gun to my back, just below my bra.

He wanted me to keep my underwear on, that much registered.

"Walk," he hissed, and I did. I walked until he gripped my arm and pulled me into an apartment bedroom, slamming the door closed behind us. He then pushed me onto the dust covered, ratty mattress in the middle of the room. It was tainted in blood stains and a heavy, disgusting scent. I gagged again and let out a yelp when the man flopped on me, his lips and tongue all over my neck. I cried out in disgust and squirmed under him.

_No! NO! I'd rather die!_ I cried mentally, knowing no one could hear me, but wishing someone could read my mind, hear my silent screams for help.

The man slid a short blade out of his back jean pocket and pressed it on my cheek bone, under my left eye. He dug it slightly into my skin, making a pinprick of blood bubble up. "Stop," he growled.

I went still under him. I stopped pushing him. I stopped making sound. If I could, I'd also have stopped my heart's beating.

He smiled at my frozen state and went back to molesting me. His ugly, disgusting hands where suddenly on my shoulders, pushing my bra straps down. I let out a gasping weep, but stayed as silent and still as I could.

"Take off your bra," he said. His voice was surprisingly gentle, but demanding. I gave the man a confused look, the fear and intimidation not leaving me, but the question of his sudden gentlness startled me. "Take off your bra!" he shouted, slamming his hand into the mattress right next to my head. I jumped at his sudden viciousness and my hands were behind me, working. I fumbled over the clamps, but then stopped moving.

_I'd rather die than do this. Death would be better. I'd rather die, _I thought. I looked at the man with watery eyes. _Not like Alice..._ With unexplainable boldness, I hissed, "I'd rather die."

My attacker's face twisted into a scowl, and I saw a flash of silver, and then there was a sharp pain on my neck. I gasped and felt confused, but I also knew what happened. The man on top of me grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked at it before slamming my head down into mattress. I screamed, again, but I didn't fight his hands. I was too busy applying pressure to my neck.

I was bleeding!

_He cut me. He cut my neck! I'm dying,_ I thought. _My life's over, just like this_. I let out a scream, unable to stop the wave of dread that overcame me. "Noooo!" I yelled. The man held the blade to my mouth, but I turned my face to the side and screamed again, in pain and in sadness and in furry. "Help," I wailed. "Help me, please! Someone!" The man's blade scraped along the sides of my face in small cuts, nothing deep enough to scar like what he had done under my cheek, but deep enough to bleed as I moved my head side to side, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

It wasn't working. It was hopeless.

"Noo!" I sobbed, wishing I had just let Donna's father drive me home. Hell - even letting my parents pick me up would have been better than this.

"Shut up you bitch," the man hissed, dragging the blade down the side of my arm as he sat up on my waist. His hand rose, but never came down.

Just as he was about to stab me the already broken window burst into thousands of pieces. I let out a shocked scream and I slammed my eyes shut, but I heard the thick thud of a human body landing. The man on top of me started to curse, but stopped mid sentence because he was ripped off of me and into the wall where he and the window man began to punch and slash at each other. I heard a large crash, and the sicken sound of a bone snapping, but I ignored it. I sobbed harder and turned away from the violence, until a voice of reason told me that this was my chance to get away.

Listening to the voice, I tried to crawl away - towards the door - but a hand suddenly wrapped around my ankle, and yanked me off the bed onto the floor. I fell on my stomach with a breathless scream, and tried to get up, but the man straddled my back.

"Now, where were we?" he said, unclasping my bra.

My eyes widened in fear as the only thing keeping my dignity was then ripped off of me with a strangled tearing sound.

"No," I screamed, my arms suddenly pinned above me with him pressing his chest against my back and reaching under my body to start and molest my chest. "Kill me! _Kill_ me!" I sobbed, willing my heart to stop so the feeling of the man's hands that kept roughly playing with my body would stop. Any thoughts of the window man were gone as I was flipped over on my back, exposing my breasts to the world. He lifted me up slightly and for a second I thought he was going to move me back to the bed, but then he slammed me back down, my head blasting the floor, sending my world into a spinning murk of muffled sound and blurred vision with stars and a never ending spin on the world.

I ceased in my struggling and furrowed my eyebrows, a numbness echoing in my body.

"Begging for death-" the man's cocky voice was cut off just as the man was tackled off of me, jerking me out of my clouded stupor and back into the ugly reality. My stinging, wet eyes crinkled in despair.

"I wasn't done," a voice rasped, the voice sounded cold and bitter, more like a growl than actual speech. But there was an obviously masculinity about it that sent me into panic while also making hope swell in my chest.

_I'm not going to die._

The simple thought empowered me. I took my chance at getting away. I didn't even glance at the men brawling on the floor, instead throwing a hand over my exposed chest and tried to stand. Sadly, my body was in too much shock to be able to work properly and the blow to my head hadn't helped the nervous system function either, so I was back on the ground before I knew I had even fallen and gasping for anything as the world around me was again sent into a whirling mass of blurry colors and muffled sounds. I tried to blink away the stars and calm my body down so that I could focus on seeing correctly again, but to no avail.

I coughed and lifted my head to see the blurry outline of what might have been a shirt and grabbed it. I yanked the foul smelling shirt on and was about to make another try and that damned door when a pained shriek came from across the room. My head turned just in time to see the man who was going to rape me fall down, gasping like a fish out of water as his own knife stuck out of the middle of his hairy chest, just under his rib cage. I froze at the scene, shocked as the details of it slowly sunk in my mind as my vision cleared.

I felt tears bubble in my eyes and my gaping mouth trembled at the sight of the dying man. Even if it was a terrible sight, I felt no sympathy, just hatred. I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting nothing more than the feeling of the man's hands to leave my body. That man had touched me. He had been so close to tainting me... I felt more tears stream down my already wet face and made to wipe them away as I remembered that the knife didn't just lodge itself into the man's chest by itself, there was someone else in the room. But I was beat to it as gentle, gloved hands softly wiped the tears off my eyes.

I gasped, and backed away from the man. He didn't follow, and instead watched as I crawled away from him. "Don't," I wept, "don't..." I looked at the man's...face? I was caught off guard slightly as I watched the patterns shift and morph, then sucked in a quick breath. "You." I shook my head, clearing my head. "N-no, not you..." This night continued to get worse. I felt so humiliated.

This man was my hero. Here I was, bloody and weak in front of him.

_I'm so pathetic._

I can't even stand up. I hung my head, the feeling of being naked slamming into me full force as a breeze seeped into the room and floated through my shirt. I shivered, and attempted to climb to my feet, but I couldn't do it. I tried as hard as I could and even looked around the room for something to help me stand, but everything in the room looked dirty, and a part of me wanted to throw up just at the thought of touching something else my attacker had touched.

I noticed my hero stayed crouched, watching me with a slightly tilted head. He didn't make a move to come closer, he just watched me, not saying a word.

With a shaky breath, and stability that only being watched by a Watchmen gave me, I climbed to my feet on my own. I took a deep breath, and stood still for a moment, slightly swaying, until I gained the confidence to move. I tried to swallow the large lump in my throat, but I couldn't, and decided it would be best if I just moved. I stumbled forward but let out a groan as my legs gave out and I tumbled downward. My arms weren't quick enough to catch me and I crashed into the disgusting floor. I let out another groan, the pain in my head becoming unbearable. My sight faded in and out as I started to loose consciousness. The last thing I saw before it all went black was the masked man's feet walking toward me, and then his knee as he kneeled down next to my head.


	4. Chapter 4

**October 21, 2008 - New York - Dardenne High School**

Ms. Dreiberg looked at her mother with a careful expression. She was sitting on her desk, her hands out behind her, her head tilted. She was dressed with a fluffed white blouse tucked into a profressional black skirt. She had brilliant organge hair that was pulled back into a pony tail and her lips were stained a light red. Her blue eyes were crinkled, along with her brow.

The room was silent and stoney. No one dared to talk. How do you react to hearing such a story? Irene, the speaker and Ms. Dreiberg's mother, even was looking at the book as she couldn't believe that she had just read.

She's never known her mother had gone through that. Ms. Dreiberg looked at the book in her mother's hands. She'd never known what kind of things her mother had gone through with her earlier years. Her mother had never brought that topic up, but had always gone out of her way to avoid certain parts of New York, and keep away danger as best as she could. Briefly she wondered what other secrets that book told. What other things that book documented from her past. To think if Ms. Dreiberg hadn't been left at that farm all of those years ago, she might not be the kind person she was today... It made Ms. Dreiberg love her mother even more. And to see her mother with that look on her face as she reread the passage made Ms. Dreiberg's heart squeeze.

Irene sat silently on the stool. The memories of those events were scarring. She couldn't remember much of the past due to her terrible memory, but rereading the words she had written all of those years ago frightened her. She really had almost gone through one of world's worst horrors. Slowly it dawned on her that Rorschach really had saved her more times than she could remember. He had always been there when she needed him to be, even if he wasn't always there when she wanted him to be. A small smile stretched to her old lips and slowly her hand moved up to trace the scar on her neck. She missed him so much. Had he not died all that time ago, maybe they'd be here today together. Maybe not as lovers, but as friends. _Really_ good friends...

Ms. Dreiberg and Irene were snapped back to reality when some kids started to fidget in their seats. Oh right. She was in her classroom. Her mother was going over the Era of the Watchmen. Slowly present day reality settled over Ms. Dreiberg. She sighed, knowing she needed something to keep the energetic students busy. She mulled over the things that her kids had recently been going over as she moved from behind her desk to the front board. "Okay class, today you must write a summary of what Mrs. Irene has shared with you up until this point." She wrote down the requirements on the board as she said them. "It must contain at least half a page of writing. Has to have more than one sentence... Make sure to have no grammar errors, and it must contain have a topic and conclusion sentence." When she got done writing she turned and smiled at the class, even though it was forced. "You have ten minutes to complete this activity. Take this seriously because stuff like this will be on your test at the end of the quarter. Consider this practice."

Irene looked at her daughter as she stood there looking like the woman Irene had hoped she'd become. She was beautiful, and independent, and not to mention a good leader. Irene's heart warmed. Not only was she her own little woman, her daughter reminded Irene of Walter in subtle ways. Her fiery red hair, her blue eyes that held the presence of knowledge, and her present aura that said, "I'm here to help." Irene's heart clenched as she looked at her daughter, half from pride, half from pain.

It took a few minutes, but Irene snapped herself out of her own little trance and began to move around the room. She looked over people's papers, curious as to what they might say. Some of the papers were better than she would have imagined. She went to the back of the class first and stared at the paper that stated in messy, giant letters, "THIS WAS ABOUT A GIRL THAT ABOUT GOT RAPED AND IT WAS PREVENTED BY A CREEPER IN A MASK AND TRENCH COAT." She looked at the boy who wrote it, and was surprised to see him glaring down at his paper and glancing at the paper the boy in the next seat was writing. He hadn't even noticed Irene looking down on his paper. Curiously, Irene moved around the boy to also stare at the other boy's paper. He already had half a page written with scribbly cursive that took a moment for Irene to decipher, but once she did, she was shocked at how well the boy wrote. The boy finally noticed Irene and looked at Irene's awed face as she stared at the other boy's paper. His face crumpled. He wanted to be a better writer, but he couldn't figure out how to summarize the passage any other way. There was a girl, he thought, looking over his paper. She almost got raped...but it was prevented by a masked creeper in a trench coat. He looked over at his fellow classmates paper and his dismay grew as the boy kept on writing and writing. But there's no more to it. That's what it was about. How...how do you get more out of the story than that...?

Irene saw the boy's frustration and looked back at his as he glared at his classmates long essay-like paper. She didn't pity him. One sentence? she thought, looking up at the board. He at least has to have three-which isn't hard considering I gave him so much to summarize. Irene sighed, and walked on, looking at the other papers. Most people used regular lined paper and wrote bigger than normal to fill make sure they could cheat their way out of writing more than they had to. It almost disappointed Irene, but in a way, she had been expecting kids to slack off like this. They were kids, and if she had to do the same thing, she'd be slacking off too. But that one kid... Irene shook her head to try and clear her rude thoughts. She'd talk to her daughter about it later.

Just as the ten minutes faded to five, then to two Irene managed to migrate to Jenny's desk. Jenny had gotten done after the first five minutes and pulled out a book to read. Irene ignored Jenny's book and snatched the blackette's paper from her desk. She read over it, and smiled. Jenny's writing style, surprisingly, was very formal and mature. Irene looked back at Jenny, who like the boy, didn't notice she was there. "You wrote an excellent summery, Jenny," she said. "I couldn't have put it better myself." Jenny jumped, and slammed her book closed, looking at Irene with wide eyes.

"You read my work without my permission?" Jenny asked, ignoring Irene compliment. The blackette felt self conscious, considering that her writing had always seemed like a personal thing to her.

Irene shrugged. "Well you certainly didn't stop me, now did you?"

Jenny made to reply, but the bell rang, and kids jumped to their feet. Before they could go though, Ms. Dreiberg yelled, "Sit down! The bell doesn't dismiss you, I dismiss you. Sit! Sit! Sit!" Grumpily kids plopped down in their seats and looked at Ms. Dreiberg. "Now, kidos, pass your papers forward! You will receive a grade out of...oh five points. Don't take this grade lightly. I won't be giving you much class work," she warned.

When all of the papers were passed to her Ms. Dreiberg waited a moment, smiling at her kids and then she dismissed them, all smiles and giggles. When it was only Irene and Ms. Dreiberg in the room, Irene sat down in her chair and put her head in her hands. "Oh Lucy, I don't know what I'm going to do..."

Ms. Dreiberg wrapped her arms around her mother and whispered, "You're going to move past this. Remember what we agreed upon? You were going to help me with this whole Watchmen thing, and I was going to help you get over it. Mother, we can do this together."

Irene sniffed, her face still covered by her hands and she said, "I think the only thing that the only cure for what I'm feeling is..." Lucy leaned in to hear her mother's words, wanting to not miss a thing. "...is grandchildren."

Lucy pulled away from her mother with an insane eye roll. "Mother." Lucy paced around the room, irritated. "Here I thought you were going to be serious when saying you need help, and you try and change the topic. I can't believe you. You always do this. I try to focus on you, and you change the topic back to me. It's...it's...I can't even say what it is. I feel...feel...ready to..." Lucy clenched her fists and then sat down at her desk. With a frustrated sigh, she dropped her head onto the desk top.

Irene watched her silently, and after a moment, spoke. "I am serious. I haven't gotten anything out of you-"

"I'm not your only kid, mother. Why don't you ever visit Victoria and her children, hmm? I'm pretty sure they'd love to see you."

"Her kids only want money from me. That's all they care about. And I swear, it runs in the family." Irene's lips curled in disgust.

Lucy's eyes brightened with anger. "It's not her fault!" Lucy exploded, startling Irene. "You can't continue to blame her for things that were out of her control!"

Irene shot up, her mouth open and ready to fire off. Irene marched up to Lucy as she hissed, "Just because you're an adult, Lucy Alice Dreiberg, doesn't mean I'm not your mother. I brought you into this world, don't think I won't take you out." Irene sucked in an angry breath. "I do not blame Victoria for that. I blame her father, and her mother." Irene's face curled with disgust on the word mother. "Her mother was a nasty whore, and her father is no better."

"Just because she's not your flesh and blood doesn't make her not your own. Irene-"

"I'm your mother," Irene snapped, glaring at her daughter.

"Sorry, mother, it's a force of habit. But, I know dad. He may have made a few bad choices, but he loves you-only you."

"I know that."

"Victoria is a part of him and you need to at least try to get over yourself." Irene was about to snap at her daughter, but Lucy cut her off. "All I'm saying is to try. You owe her that much."

"I owe them nothing. I gave Victoria eighteen dedicated years of mother ship and that-that-that bitch shows up last minute and takes her away."

"I know what happened!" Lucy's hands waved around as she spoke. "I was there! Remember? It isn't all about you! _This_ isn't all about you! This is about Victoria! Think of her, and her children. They want to see their grandma." Lucy paused. "Think of dad. How long has it been since you've been to see him?"

Irene snorted. "I went yesterday. He's doing fine."

Their voices were getting softer.

Lucy closed her eyes. "What did you say to him?"

Irene looked down and ran a hand through her gray hair. "I told him I loved him." She shook her head. "I told him I'd be there to the end." Irene's face hardened. "And unlike him, I keep my promises."

Lucy nodded. "He made one mistake." Irene's face hardened.

"It wasn't only once," Irene hissed, looking away, her face heavy with shame. "He did it more like several times over the years..."

Lucy shot up. "Recently? And you haven't told me this because? Does Victoria know?" Lucy pushed away from her desk and grabbed her mother's arm, suddenly calm. "Let's discuss this somewhere else. I don't feel comfortable bringing personal problems in my work place." Lucy's face darkened. "I also don't like discussing whores in a school. Makes me feel dirty."

Irene sighed, and pattered her daughter's hand, letting her drag her away. "I'm in the mood for smoothies, my treat."

"Mother-"

"My treat." Irene smiled, a small smile and pulled out a little plastic card from her pocket. "Or should I say your father's?"

Lucy shook her head, but couldn't help but smile. She sighed and said, "You're so..."

"Perfect?"

"Diabolical."

Irene looked almost hurt for a moment, but Lucy ignored it. The look faded away, and melted into a smile. Irene pinched Lucy's cheek. "Always so much like your father."

Lucy rolled her eyes.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _I feel really bad that I haven't updated. I'm sorry. I really am. There is no excuse for it. So because of this, I shall reward you with a double update. Thank you for being patient. I hope you like it. I hope you have a wonderful day, too. I hope you like this story. If you don't, or if you have any concerns, or comments, whatever they be, share them down below or PM me. I don't bite. I like getting PMs. What do you think of Irene so far? What's your impression on the class?_


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